


Hitting the Mats

by Island_of_Reil



Series: The World Your Enemy [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Casual Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Internal Monologue, Light Masochism, Woman on Top, unrequited Annie → Eren, unrequited Armin → Annie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24828124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Island_of_Reil/pseuds/Island_of_Reil
Summary: There’s no bed in this room. Just a few exercise mats on the floor. Which are good enough. Better, really. They can’t fool themselves that this is anything but exercise.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart
Series: The World Your Enemy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795882
Kudos: 56





	Hitting the Mats

**Author's Note:**

> I had no idea where to go with the scenario of the earlier fic plot-wise, and I gave it up when Annie emerged from her crystal in the manga. So have some porn instead. Again, this is set before the timeskips in chapters 89 to 90.

So of course they end up fucking.

It doesn’t mean anything. Or, at least, it doesn’t have to. Annie knows, she fucked other trainees here and there, and in the MPs she banged Boris a few times. This is trickier, since it’s not like she can just go out and find someone else to fuck if things go sour with Armin. But whatever. She’s lonely and horny and bored, she’s going to die in four years, she can’t even have salt and pepper on her food whenever she wants. She’s going to get home to her father, and after that the sky can fucking fall in for all she cares.

The other Survey Corpsmen watch the two of them like hawks when they’re outdoors, and of course she’s not allowed onto the upper floors of the castle. But Armin talked Commander Hanji into letting him and Annie use a mostly empty storage room in the basement with a door that shuts and locks, for half an hour at a time. Annie has no idea if the commander decided this would work well as part of Annie’s motivation program, or if she thinks that Armin’s more likely to get information out of Annie after a good fuck. If it’s the second one, maybe Commander Hanji isn’t as smart as Annie thought.

There’s no bed in this room. Just a few exercise mats on the floor. Which are good enough. Better, really. They can’t fool themselves that this is anything but exercise. Flesh hitting the mats with thuds and sticking to them with sweat, grunts exiting lungs with the impact. Bodily fluids, of course. Hence the shortass psycho pointedly leaving rags and cleaning solution on the shelf by the door. Annie wonders if he jerks off with a bleach-soaked rag. Or at all.

She makes her mind turn away from that thought, like turning a dial that makes a satisfying snap when you move it into a new position. She and Armin have about twenty-five minutes left before someone knocks and she doesn’t want to waste her mental energy on that little asshole. Right now she’s squatting over Armin, bracing the sides of his face with her thighs while he eats her out and fondles her ass. He’s maybe a little less green than she first figured, at least with girls. That’s still pretty green. Though she’ll give him credit for asking questions instead of acting like he knows things he doesn’t.

The first time he did this was weird. He opened her up with his thumbs, which was okay, but then he got that dopey worshipful Bertolt look on his face. “You’re like the inside of a seashell,” he said. At first Annie thought it sounded like something you’d hear in the bar from another trainee. _You’re like Sina coming down from heaven,_ that kind of bullshit. Then she remembered the conch, the one Armin carries around in his pocket. She grabbed him by the hair and shoved his face into her cunt. She doesn’t need to hear how her crotch looks like something a sea bug lives in, let alone something Armin’s projecting all his feelings about the outside world onto, and if he kept talking it was only going to get weirder.

By now he more or less knows what he’s doing: how long he can suck on her clit before it starts getting numb or retracts, how to use his teeth and how hard, when to stick his finger up her cunt and where to press, or when to stroke a fingertip over her asshole. Annie pushes her thighs together harder, tighter, trying to keep all her blood right at the center of her body, and grinds down harder onto Armin’s mouth and jaw. Beet red, Armin gasps against her, coughing as some of her juice goes down the wrong pipe, but he never stops eating her out. The image of her popping off the top of Armin’s skull by squeezing his face with her thighs — her human thighs, not her titan ones — flits through her mind.

Maybe it’s not a coincidence that this is when the first wave of orgasm slams into her, hard and juddering. She lets herself emit a growling groan through her clenched teeth as she keeps riding Armin’s face. The second wave isn’t far behind, beginning to shudder upward from her cunt and ass to radiate throughout her like electricity from a lightning strike, burning hard in her nipples. She lets it take her, yields up her hips to it, finds herself chasing every little spark that Armin licks out of her clit until it starts to feel sore instead of good.

She unfolds, rising up on her knees, then stands. Armin is still red and gasping, glistening with cunt juice from the tip of his nose to the bottom of his chin. His cock is glistening too, so much so that for a moment Annie wonders if he came without touching himself. Then he pushes himself up on his elbows a little, looks at her with blue versions of Bertolt’s eyes, and his boner sways. He’s just leaking a lot. She guesses she could go for another orgasm or two. If she can’t have bruises, she’ll take the hypersensitivity.

Matter-of-factly, she takes a few steps backward, then squats again, grabbing for Armin’s cock. He sucks in a breath when she grabs it, and she gives it a hard squeeze just to make him swear before she lines the head up with her cunt hole and pushes down. She’s dripping so heavily that he goes up her super easy. She’s still a little sensitive. Nowhere near enough. She bears down hard on him, ramming her clit into his pubic bone, sucking in her own breath at the jolt that goes through her with every thrust.

She still hasn’t gotten her head around how acquiescent Armin is with her, how he lets her arrange him the way she wants and more or less use him like a toy. It’s like throwing a rag doll around sometimes. Is this the Bertolt coming out in him again? Not that she didn’t know that people can be super different from their normal selves when you get their clothes off. It’s just disappointing, given how devious Armin can be and how his will is almost as strong as Eren’s.

It always comes back to Eren, doesn’t it, Annie thinks as she squeezes Armin’s cock inside her and rocks harder on him. Always comes back to a dead end. Eren will look at her or speak to her when he needs to, for Survey Corps reasons. Otherwise she might as well not be there. She taught him how to fight, how to kick Reiner’s pathetic ass. She’s doing the job _he_ should be doing, teaching his best friend how to fight. This is the fucking thanks she gets.

Just before she comes again, the storage room fades a little around her. For a moment she’s back on the sparring ground, her thighs are around Eren’s hips, and he’s all worshipful and limp. Well, all except thirteen or fourteen centimeters of him.

Maybe he’d have been just another rag doll, after all.

Except, well, there was that fight in the forest.

Annie clenches Armin one last time and pushes herself over the edge like she’s rolling a boulder. All it merits this time is a gasp. As she sags and closes her eyes, Armin grabs her hips and starts drilling up into her. She wishes he’d done that earlier, the soreness would’ve been more fun, but late is better than never. Too bad it doesn’t take long before he lets go with a string of wordless shouts. Then he sighs, and his bare back hits the mat with a moist slap.

His hair is stuck to his forehead and getting in between his half-shut eyelids. He’s pretty like this, Annie thinks. But it’s a good time to get up off him, before he opens his eyes and starts giving her that gooey love stare again.

She shuffles over to the shelf by the door, trying to keep her thighs together and swearing under her breath when she feels a few drops run down her inner thigh. She grabs a clean rag, wads it up, and squats just slightly so she can shove it up against herself and mop up. She doesn’t look at Armin. Then she tosses the rag into the laundry basket that the little psycho also pointedly left by the door, grabs her clothes, starts pulling them on, pulls her hair back into its ponytail. Still not looking at Armin.

“…Annie?”

She’s had too much training to sigh. Far too much. “What?”

“…um. Uh, never mind.”

He sounds wistful. She doesn’t say anything, because it’s not her business in the end, but he’d be better off if he got over it. Walking corpses don’t get any kind of happily ever after. Even if she wanted it. She can’t even imagine it. It’s like trying to imagine living on the moon. She and Armin fucking are about as good as it’s going to get until she starts spitting up blood or someone else devours her.

She wishes she could just walk out of the room on her own, not have to feel the ten-ton weight of his gaze on her neck. But he has to lock her up again. So she leans against the wall, arms folded, as he gets up from the mat with a sticky sound and cleans himself up and dresses. He mostly stares at the floor or at the opposite wall the whole time. Annie shakes her head a little to dispel the vague sense of guilt that she doesn’t feel bad about it.

He walks her back to the cell in silence. Once the gate clangs shut between them and he’s turned his key in the lock, he stares at her again from the other side, mute and imploring. Annie thinks of Bertolt again. This is the part where she’s supposed to give Armin a goodbye kiss, right? 

“Thanks. I’ll see you at dinner,” she says without inflection instead. She does look him in the face this time, though. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong.

Armin blinks, and the corner of his mouth twitches. “Okay,” he mumbles, his face reddening and his eyes dropping to the floor. “See you then.”

Annie doesn’t let out her breath until she hears the cellar door above close, as quietly as possible. Then she throws herself across the bed, on her back, boots dangling over the edge, and stares up into the darkness around the ceiling joists for a good hour.


End file.
